


Filigree Apogee Pedigree Perigee

by LavernaG



Category: Bedknobs and Broomsticks (1971)
Genre: F/M, Family, Fun, Magic, Teasing, spell
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-01
Updated: 2020-05-07
Packaged: 2021-02-28 17:54:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 4,275
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23431252
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LavernaG/pseuds/LavernaG
Summary: It had become a friendly habit—using the spell. Neither of them minded any more. Well, not much anyway.
Relationships: Emelius Browne/Eglantine Price
Comments: 7
Kudos: 3





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Just a little while ago I saw "Bedknobs and Broomstick" for the first time; and I completely fell in love with the movie, Angela, and all the wonderful characters! Old Disney movies are the best! I don't think I'll ever get over these innocent, lovely romance stories that Disney has provided us with... Ahem!...MaryPoppins&Bert...Ahem!...Eglantine&Emelius...Ahem!
> 
> I absolutely adore the movie, but I just can't believe Miss Price would never use magic again after her notes were destroyed. (Besides the traveling spell, of course.) She was the perfect, most adorable apprentice witch in the world! So let's just pretend that the Germans' bomb failed to be activated. Let's try anyway. And then we might find this little new storyline of mine logical. And besides! In the "Don't let me down" song, Miss Price clearly sings, "I have always had a bit of a nack for witchcraft. Common spells and simple charms came naturally."
> 
> Ever since Emelius was first turned into a rabbit, I thought I could use that. And when he later jumped into Eglantine's lap, my fragile little heart just couldn't bear this sweetness any more! So this story happened.
> 
> I hope you enjoy, and please leave me a review if you do! :)

"I told you I could do that spell, too!" Emelius Browne laughed, hanging up his apron and looking down at the fluffy white rabbit on the floor. It looked extremely angry as it hopped around the floor for a moment or two, and then came to a stop to stare up at the man. Its ear twitched. "Oh, come on now! I warned you."

The staring contest—on the man's part amused, but on the rabbit's furious—continued for about half a minute, until a few orange sparks appeared and shimmered around the rabbit. It started to grow quickly, its long ears growing smaller and the fluffy white fur turning into a lovely lavernder cardigan and a rose house dress. The woman that now stood before Emelius Browne to him was the most beautiful, the most wonderful person in the whole wide world. Of course, she did look prettier when she was not frowning at him. In her big blue eyes Emelius could see a mixture of disappointment, annoyance and resentment. He immediately concealed his smile.

"That was disgraceful of you!" Eglantine huffed, furrowing her brow even further. "And totally uncalled for." She proceeded to brush off some dust from her clothes, still glaring at the man in front of her. Emelius was, in fact, attempting to give her an apologetic and at the same time amusing smile. He so loved making people happy. But Eglantine Browne was not about to change her mind so quickly.

"I ought to teach you a lesson," she threatened the man, searching her pockets with her hands. "I'll just need to get my notebook." As she moved to swiftly pass him, Emelius reached out and gently took Eglantine by the waist, thereby trapping the woman in his arms. He pulled his wife closer to himself, although her hands had already made their way to his chest in order to push him away. "Stop that, Emelius! I really am so very angry with you," Eglantine protested weakly as Emelius caressed her back with his hands, sending an already familiar excited shiver up her spine.

"Oh no, you're not," Emelius smiled and placed a tender, little kiss on the tip of her nose. "Not really."

Eglantine felt herself melt at his ever so loving touch and at hearing his warm, kind voice. She sighed with delight and offered her husband a small smile in return. "No, you're right," she said quietly, wrapping her arms around Emelius's shoulders. "I can never really be angry with you. You're just too good."


	2. Chapter 2

Eglantine watched with an amused chuckle as the white rabbit in front of her turned back into her husband. She loved the way his nose twitched when he did. She couldn't help sometimes thinking that even in his human form he looked a little bit like a rabbit. Her very own, sweet little rabbit to cuddle with. Eglantine watched fondly as Emelius got up from the floor and tugged at his coat.

It had become a friendly habit—using the spell. Whenever they felt like the other was annoying them or simply needed a few hops to calm themselves, they turned the other into a rabbit. Neither of them minded any more. It was much too fun to mind. However, they didn't do it in front of the children. The last thing Eglantine needed was three children going about practising spells. They had the bedknob and that was enough for them.

"I'm sorry, my dear," Emelius said with a warm smile, crossing the living room and heading for his wife in the doorway, "but I don't seem to remember what I did wrong." He stopped a few feet from Eglantine, suprised at her widened eyes.

"Don't you?" she asked disbelievingly, crossing her arms over her chest.

"No, I haven't the foggiest," Emelius replied innocently. He didn't really like it when Eglantine crossed her arms—that way she sort of sealed herself away. And by that Emelius was painfully reminded of how self-dependent she had been when he'd first met her. That had been during the war, a few years ago now. They had both come such a long way from what they had been before.

Eglantine frowned half-heartedly. "You scared Cosmic Creepers," she stated bluntly.

"I scared him?" Emelius asked incredulously. He pointed accusingly at the cat resting peacefully on one of the armchairs. "You should have seen what he did to me! I've never run so fast in my whole life," he declared theatrically, and then stepped over to his wife. "My heart is still racing. Here, you can feel it."

He gently took Eglantine's right hand, untwisting it from its former position, and placed it on his chest above his heart. Eglantine kept her eyes nailed to her hand for a moment, and her lips curved into a small, peaceful smile. The slow and calm beat of her husband's heart was ever so comforting. Eventually, she looked up, and found the most charming, loving expression on Emelius's face. And every little ounce of irritation she had felt earlier was wiped from her mind.

"Well, I-" she uttered quietly, "I'm sorry, Emelius." She slid her hands over to her husband's shoulders as she'd grown accustomed to doing. But just when Emelius was returning the affectionate gesture, a loud and piercing meow sounded from the armchair. Eglantine tore her eyes away from her husband's to turn her head and order, "Out you go, Cosmic!"


	3. Chapter 3

The alluring smells that had filled the house lured the apprentice witch out of her workroom and into the kitchen where her husband was busy in front of the stove, preparing their family's lunch. Eglantine hovered in the doorway for a minute and watched blissfully as Emelius swung from one foot to the other and whistled a happy tune. Eglantine had never been much of a cook herself, and this ability in her husband made her even happier about the way things had turned out for them.

It took quite a while for Emelius to realize his wife was watching him, but once he had, he turned and offered the little lady a slice of apple he'd been planning to fry. He knew these green apples were his wife's favourites, and they reminded Emelius of his first evening here. He'd often practised juggling with apples after that but been careful to keep out of Cosmic Creeper's way. As for fried apples, they always reminded Emelius of his childhood—back when he had been very little, his mother had served them to him as if they were a majestic meal. Once, he'd even gotten to try them with a little cinnamon. He was secretly hoping that their children—as they'd grown accustomed to calling them—would one day also associate this taste with their childhood.

Eglantine accepted her husband's offering gladly and made her way into the kitchen. To her great surprise, she couldn't find any other place to sit than right on top of the table. "Where are all the chairs?" left her lips before her curiosity about the upcoming meal could reveal itself.

Emelius turned back to his frying pan and answered without any concern, "The children are building a barricade." He registered the confusion in his wife's silent gasp, even though she was sitting completely out of his view.

"What ever for?"

Emelius chuckled. He sometimes wondered how Eglantine had managed to live all these lonely years without even a bit of childish fun and games. Even when he'd been alone, Emelius had always found a way to turn his miserable life into a game. "They probably met Cosmic Creepers," he replied with a foxy smirk that his wife couldn't possibly have seen.

"Emelius!" There was a familiar reproachful tone in that word, and Emelius was once again reminded of how different his and Eglantine's cat's positions were in this house.

He chuckled good-willingly, and adding apples to the shrinking portion in the pan, he said, "It's a game, Eglantine, my dear. I used to pretend I was a wizard when I was a child. I had an old pencil for a magic wand, and every once in a while it got smaller and smaller, until one day I didn't have a wand any more, and I realized I had grown up, too. Charlie is playing a colonel, Paul is a lieutenant-colonel, and I believe Carrie is a survived captain from the Royal Navy. I do believe children's games alter, depending on the time they're living in."

"Oh, Emilius," Eglantine cut in carefully as soon as it seemed Emelius had finished for the moment, "do you think it will have a large impact on their lives?" She had been listening attentively, only once or twice having been distracted by the scrumptious scent arising from the pan. She could very well imagine Emelius as a wizard, for she herself had told her husband how she'd, in her childhood, liked to play pranks on her father with the simplest of spells.

"The war?" Emelius asked over his shoulder unconcernedly and reieved a nod from his wife, who by innocent unintention looked extremely adorable sitting on the table in her sage house dress and blue sweater. "No, I don't. If anything it will make them value life and family to a greater extent than they would otherwise." He was contented when his wife didn't question him further—that meant she was actually thinking about his words.

There was a comfortable silence then, disturbed only by the frizzling from the frying pan and the few cheerful exclamations from the living room. "On guard!" "Mayday-mayday! The Germans are attacking!" Emelius had a pleased smile on his lips, put there by the thought of his family enjoying the meal. Compared to his life before he'd met Eglantine and the Rawlins children, this responsibility was like a fresh spring breeze after the long and lonesome winter, which his life had been.

Suddenly, without any forewarning, a sweet voice spoke into Emelius's ear, "It smells heavenly. Can I taste it?"

Emelius jumped and raised his wooden spatula as a sword against his wife. "On guard!" he exclaimed just like Paul had only moments ago. "I will protect this treasure until my last breath." And he took a theatrical position with one of his hands reached out in front of him with his weapon, and the other one raised high above his head.

Eglantine simply laughed at his childish game. "But just a little," she begged with a tone of pretend doleful pleading, peeking into the frying pan.

"No, my fair damsel," Emelius replied firmly, but he was sure his wife could detect the playful smirk in his tone, "not a bite lest you burn yourself." But as the peckish apprentice witch refused to leave the stove, he was obligated to resort to more desperate measures. He set down the spatula.

His name left Eglantine's lips in a startled shriek as Emelius wrapped his arms around his wife's abdomen from behind and lifted her off the floor decisively. Emelius turned and set the protesting woman down farther away from the stove and his eatable treasure. His uneatable treasure, however, was not too amused by his trick.

She turned to face her husband and raised a significant finger. "I ought to-to-to turn you into a rabbit for that," Eglantine warned him, although Emelius could both see it in her flushed face and hear it in her voice that she was not really as annoyed as she was desperately trying to look. She had that rare expression on her face, which meant she was trying to look awfully serious in an actually rather delightful situation. Those moments had become rarer lately as Eglantine had been turned into quite the softie by a certain trio of rambunctious children and an oldish man she had decided to share her life with.

"Not if I'm quicker."


	4. Chapter 4

Eglantine was lying in bed already when her husband finally entered the bedroom. She had been staring at the ceiling, trying to recall the words of the spell she'd been working on this afternoon. She had been absently turning the golden band on her left ring finger and ultimately failing in her ponders. She propped herself up on her elbows when she heard the sound of the door opening and closing again.

"Where were you?" she asked as the seemingly exhausted Emelius sat on his side of the bed and slipped off his slippers. "I was getting worried."

"Were you?" Emelius asked tiredly, and it seemed to his wife that he had not really been listening to her. He carried an air of sombre fatigue with him and he looked a lot older than when he'd left for the bathroom, as if Eglantine had been lying here for a decade at least.

"What happened?" she asked with alert timidness in her tone. A lurking dread had made its way into her heart, for Emelius was way too quiet.

Emelius looked up now, as if he'd just realized Eglantine was there, and managed a little smile. "Nothing, my dear," he said quietly, reaching out and patting his wife's hand gently. "Carrie had a nightmare." He spoke as if he'd been the one to suffer the bad dream himself and not one of their children. But then, he had grown deeply caring towards them—a stranger would never have thought the three children had been adopted.

Just as Eglantine was about to ask what the girl had been dreaming about, Emelius shook his head wearily and answered her unasked question, "It doesn't matter. She's asleep now." He took a moment to heave a heavy sigh. "And, quite frankly, I'm dead tired," he added, and it really looked as if he wasn't even up to pulling his legs up to lie back on the mattress.

In addition to her great compassion for the man for having to deal with a teenage girl's bad dreams, there was a certain pride and happiness Eglantine felt in her heart, for no matter how late they would sometimes get to bed or how many troubles solve during the day, this beat lonesomeness by far. She leaned over to her husband's ear and whispered, "Oh, I know what you need." And she muttered the incantation with sweet sensuality in her tone.

Before her husband had a chance to react, Eglantine picked up the freshly appeared white rabbit and brought it with her as she lowered herself comfortably back under the covers. She pulled the rabbit close to her chest, careful not to hurt the little thing, and placed a tender kiss at the top of his head. "Nothing like a nice cuddle," she muttered against its soft fur.

A couple of minutes later, by which time both occupants of the bed had already fallen asleep, the rabbit turned back into the original man. His arms were wrapped safely around his wife, her head nestled comfortably against his shoulder. And they rested with peace and happiness in their hearts, knowing that no harm or bad dreams could come to either of them as long as they had each other to hold.


	5. Chapter 5

Emelius gave the vicar a polite, if perhaps a tad triumphant, smile as he stepped out of the church with his wife on his arm and their three children skipping down the church steps in front of them. The bright sunlight welcomed the family into the warm summer Sunday; Eglantine raised her hand to cover her eyes, making a displeased face.

"It was all I could do not to nod off in there," she confided in Emelius once she was convinced they were out of the vicar's acute earshot.

Emelius chuckled. "My dear Eglantine, for a distinguished lady, you show remarkably little interest in religious matters."

"It's not the church I can't stand," Eglantine hissed back. "It's him!"

Emelius couldn't deny agreeing with the woman—he had tried throughout the whole service to give the vicar his most intimidating glare, but the relentless man hadn't taken his eyes off Mrs. Browne as he spoke in a monotone, unconvincing tone about the Almighty. He sometimes wondered why the vicar couldn't admit defeat, each time he looked at his wife, however, he realized the answer to that question. Emelius felt his chest puff up with pride. It wasn't the first time he'd outflanked the vicar.

* * *

Emelius was whistling a cheerful tune and walking arm in arm down the street with his soon-to-be-wife when she started gently but decisively leading him around the corner of the local bakery. "But my dear, the post office is that way," he remarked, mildly surprised, and studied the frown that hadn't been on his bride's face a minute ago.

Eglantine glanced back towards the street they had just left and asked, "Didn't you see Mr. Jelk stepping out of the post office? I'm in much too good a mood to run into him today."

Emelius raised his eyebrows in modest amusement. "My dear, I wasn't aware you were afraid of anything," he teased in a good-natured way. He was used to Eglantine's capricious temper, and by now he also knew that there was no one who could control it better than him.

Eglantine came to a sudden stop and glared at him. "I certainly wouldn't call it that," she declared steadily.

Emelius smiled and placed his hands on the witch's upper arms. His eyes swept over the deserted narrow street they were standing in, and he remarked, "I could hide you."

"I beg your pardon?" Eglantine was looking at him as if he'd proposed something as absurd as becoming fellow magicians to tour the country.

"Do you think Mr. Jelk likes rabbits?" Emelius asked with a mischievous grin. "Filigree..."

"No," Eglantine protested sharply.

"Apogee pedigree perigee."

Emelius caught the white rabbit in his hands and pulled it gently against his chest. When Mr. Jelk turned the corner, he found a beaming Emelius balancing Miss Price's shopping basket on one arm, and a dainty rabbit huddled in the man's arms.

"Top of the morning to you, vicar," chirped Emelius.

"Good morning," Mr. Jelk said in his mellow, ethereal voice. Briefly he peeked over the older man's shoulder and added nonchalantly, "Didn't I see Miss Price with you just now?"

"You've just missed her, old chap. Miss Price had some important errands to run," Emelius replied openly, tenderly scratching the rabbit behind its ears. "You might still be able to catch her if you hurry." Eglantine nuzzled against Emelius's coat happily.

Mr. Jelk nodded and stepped past Emelius, giving the white animal in his arms a curious sideways glance. His gait down the narrow street was, to put it mildly, somewhat hasty.

Emelius stepped back out into the wide street and set his steps towards the post office. "I think we ought to start running some of those errands, don't you?" he spoke quietly to the rabbit. In turn, it was brought out of its blissful trance and shook its head fervently, so that its ears flapped against Emelius's hand. The man stopped, and looking down at the bundle of fluff, he noticed the first orange sparkles twirling about its head.

A few moments later the fluffy white creature was Eglantine again, as tall, slender and bewitching as ever, pressed against Emelius's chest and smiling up at the man brilliantly. Her hands slid up his lapels and straightened his tie. "Have I ever told you that you're the most resourceful man I've ever met?" she asked sweetly.

"Not me," Emelius admitted, "but the children tell me everything." He didn't have to bend his head much to touch his lips gently against Eglantine's.

Across the street Mrs. Hobday pressed her narrow nose against a window pane at the post office and grinned. "There's nothing quite like young love, is there?" she asked no one in particular.


	6. Chapter 6

Eglantine turned her eyes from her own reflection to the man she could see in the corner of the mirror and laughed openly. Emelius was sitting next to their bed and scouring the underneath of it with his right hand, a look of extreme concentration on his face. Eglantine placed her hairbrush on the dressing table and turned around.

"Do you know what you've just reminded me of?" she asked with a peppy lilt in her tone, a merry glint in her eyes.

Emelius didn't break his concentration on the task at hand and replied absently, "No, I do not know that, my dear."

"You remind me of the first time you were in this room," Eglantine replied. When her husband looked up at her and his ears turned red, she let out a hearty chortle.

* * *

She threw her favourite lavender blouse over the back of the armchair in her room and proceeded to undo the button on the back of her skirt. An ugly orange stain sneered at her from the front of the skirt, and she pushed it down fiercely. It wasn't her fault she had never been taught to cook! All she'd wanted to do was to help Emelius in the kitchen, and they'd ended up having a row. The skirt joined the blouse and the cardigan on the armchair. If you could even call it a row—a few reprimanding words from the man and the sullen witch had already uttered the incantation that turned the fetching Mr. Browne into a fluffy white rabbit.

Eglantine caught a glimpse of herself in her white slip in the mirror, and her unhappy expression made her feel even worse. What kind of a mother would she be to their three children if she couldn't even make a decent pot of stew? What sort of a wife would she make for Emelius, who could do everything, even use magic? Eglantine sniffed and averted her eyes from her dispirited face in the mirror; and her attention was caught by some orange and yellow sparkles in the air next to her bed.

Eglantine turned on her heel and crossed the room with three quick strides. When she came to a stop at the foot of the bed, she found herself staring down at Emelius, sitting on the carpet and looking around himself, happy as a lark. Eglantine's eyes widened and she tried instinctively to conceal her meagrely covered body with her hands. "Mr. Browne!" she exclaimed breathlessly. "What is the meaning of this?"

The change in Emelius's face had happened even before it had in Eglantine's. He turned his head to the side and brought a hand up to cover his eyes, merely out of respect for his future bride's unique modesty. Although his face reddened notably, he actually seemed rather amused by the scene. "I'm so sorry, my dear," he said. "But I wasn't exactly aware of which room I was in."

Eglantine flew to her closet and sought for her robe. When she found it, she wrapped herself up in it, all the while eyeing the man on the floor crossly. She'd never had a man in her bedroom before, and she could feel a bright blush creep onto her cheeks.

"You see, I was hiding from Cosmic Creepers," Emelius added and when he was positive it was safe to look at his bride again, he got up from the floor. "I certainly didn't mean to catch you at an inconvenient moment."

He walked over to Eglantine and placed his hands on her upper arms, gaining no objection from the heavily blushing woman. She cast down her eyes at the recollection of her earlier stormy behaviour, as opposed to Emelius's gentle touch now.

"Well, what's the matter, my dear?" Emelius asked softly. "You haven't been yourself all day."

Eglantine looked up at him, surprised that he had noticed her gloomy mood. Of course, the dear man was always ever so attentive. "Well, I..." The way he looked at her—with such warm care and tenderness in his eyes—made her feel so silly to ask, "Why would you have anything to do with a woman who can't even cook for her family?"

Emelius looked at her silently for a long moment, and Eglantine felt unwanted tears welling up in her eyes. No one had ever looked at her so lovingly before. "Oh, my dear Eglantine..." Emelius whispered. Whether he pulled her closer or Eglantine herself stepped forward—either way the witch found herself in her husband-to-be's embrace. "Because you have bewitched me, in every possible meaning of the word," Emelius said as he held her tightly. "I would want to spend the rest of my life with you even if you couldn't make a pot of tea or clean a room. It wouldn't matter a wit to me."

Eglantine chuckled into his shoulder, and pulled away just enough to be able to look at Emelius. "That I can do."

Emelius's eyes travelled down from her face momentarily and up again. "And if you want to learn to cook," he added, pulling the lapels of Eglantine's robe closer together over her chest, "then I will be more than happy to teach you. Even if it takes me forty years to get you to boil a potato." His future wife beamed at him happily. "Even if I have to spend half of it on four paws."

* * *

"It didn't take that long at all," Eglantine commented dreamily.

"I wish I could say the same for this here," Emelius said, sprawled half-way under the bed. "Aha! I've got you now!" He reappeared with a look of pride on his face and triumphantly waved his recovered slipper above his head. "Without that Substitutiary Locomotion spell you are no match for me!"


End file.
